


Under the Harvest Moon

by Talullah



Series: Trick-or-Treat Ficlets 2014 [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrohir is sent on an errand. Orophin helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Harvest Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minuial_Nuwing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuial_Nuwing/gifts).



> Trick-or-treat ficlet for Minuial Nuwing, who requested Elrohir and Orophin; a harvest moon, a fruit, and a horse.

**Lothlórien, Third Age 240**

“Oh, here it is!” Orophin said triumphantly, pointing at the tallest tree in the orchard, covered with red beads.

Elrohir pressed his lips at Orophin’s glee. They had been searching for THE _yavannamíre_ for nearly two days, after riding in straight from Imladris and not even the feast for the eyes that was sunset on the Golden Woods could make him feel less dirty, tired and like one who is on a fool’s errand.

Keeping to his cheery nature, Orophin charged ahead, giving no thought to Elrohir’s lack of enthusiasm. He was already climbing up the tree when Elrohir finally reached him.

“Are you ready?” Orophin asked with a wink.

“If I must,” Elrohir muttered. He took his bag from his shoulder and opened it, waiting for Orophin to throw him some of the luscious berries.

“What are you planning to do with that?” Orophin asked, laughing so hard he almost toppled from the branch he had sat astride.

“To carry the berries back to Imladris,” Elrohir replied, trying to shake the dark mood that had come over him. Orophin didn’t deserve backlash just because Elrohir had worn off his initial delight in showering his pregnant mother with filial devotion. Celebrían had been wonderfully pleasant during the first six months, but the last two had been... interesting, to say the least and four more were still to come. Among many other things, Elladan had had to hunt wild boar out of season, Father had had to pester the baker to try an old rye bread recipe from Ost-en-Edhil until it was exactly as Celebrían remembered it… and now, the _yavannamíre_ berries. 

Celebrían had dreamt that she was expecting a baby girl, who would grow up to be the most beautiful elven woman on Arda, after Lúthien… perfect white skin, the darkest ebony hair and the reddest, fullest lips, but only if her craving for _yavannamíre_ berries was promptly satisfied. And not any _yavannamíre_ berries – they had to come from a special tree, the one that Celebrían had tended to in her youth in Lothlórien. Eru knew there were enough _yavannamíre_ trees in Imladris, but no, it had to be the one. At least they had been lucky in one thing – it was the season for the _yavannamíre_ to bear fruit. 

Elrohir’s thoughts were interrupted by Orophin’s chiming laughter. “Nooo, no, no, no, no,” he said. “You can’t take them like that. They will wilt, ferment and rotten before you can even cross Lothlórien’s border.”

“Then what do you propose to do?” Elrohir asked, struggling to contain the irritation.

Orophin chuckled to himself, and started cutting twigs and letting them fall to the ground. “You know, I was still little when my mother was expecting Rúmil, so I got the best of it – she would smother me with kisses, food and warnings about once a day and then my father would take over. Poor Haldir was the one in charge of fetching her whatever she was craving at the time.” Orophin rose, balanced himself on the branch and reached for the berries above his head, stuffing a few in his mouth before continuing his harvest. 

“There was that one time…” Orophin chuckled again, but after one quick glance down at Elrohir, returned to his task.

“What do you want me to do with these branches?” Elrohir asked, trying to be minimally helpful. 

“Start gathering them. Don’t press them together too hard.”

Elrohir complied, feeling slightly amused. Despite his irritation at Orophin’s unwavering good cheer, he did like him and was thankful that his grandfather had chosen the young Galadhrim to help him instead of another older elf, such as Orophin’s older brother, an amazingly competent archer, but ever so formal. He had first met Orophin when he was barely able to walk. Celeborn had sent Orophin’s father and brother with Elladan and Elrohir on a small mission, more to distract two bored visitors than because of a real need of intelligence, Elrohir suspected. While they had come to like and respect both father and son, there had always been a whiff of formality between them. None of that with Orophin.

“Here, catch!” Orophin said, dropping a larger branch on Elrohir, and then jumping down from the tree.

“I think we’re done here,” he said.

“What am I to do with these branches?” Elrohir asked puzzled. “Surely you are not expecting that I carry them back to Imladris…”

Orophin laughed. “Not quite.”

“Then what?”

“You have to preserve them first, with the sap from the tree, hence picking up the branches too. I thought you Noldor knew everything.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Elrohir replied, feeling the irritation bubbling up again. “My mother wants fresh berries, not preserves. And I’m not Noldo, I mean, I am too, a just little, by blood and culturally too, but I don’t know everything and you’re judging me just because of the hair and the nose, but those are from Dior, or so Grandmother says.” He stopped, realizing that he was being too defensive and wordy and that he was amusing Orophin to no end – again. It was unseemly, Elrohir thought, knowing full well that it was not just his frustration that made him talk too much, but rather the attraction he had started to feel for Orophin when he had saw him all grown up the night of his arrival at Callas Galadhon.

Orophin flashed him another brilliant smile. “Don’t worry, we Silvan know you don’t know everthing. We do like the hair and the noses, though.” He wiggled his eyebrows, so shamelessly that Elrohir wasn’t sure he was being forward or just trying to annoy him. “’And I wasn’t talking about preserves as in jam. You’ll see. Trust me.”

Orophin picked up the remaining branches, carefully arranging them in his arms. Elrohir followed his lead. When they were done, Orophin tied the branches to Glorel’s saddle and looked back. “Now, we need to get these to the stream and wait for dusk to settle into night.”

Elrohir followed behind Orophin, enjoying the beauty the Silvan elf’s movements. Orophin, like many other Silvan elves, had little contact with horses. It was clear he was utterly besotted with Glorel, chatting softly with her, constantly petting and grooming her mane, and finding her snacks of sweet fruits and roots along the way. Elrohir thought of the last time he had met Orophin, many years ago, when he was only Haldir’s little brother, and he smiled, seeing the elfling in the grown man. The warmth of fondness was quickly replaced with that other feeling, when Orophin looked back at him and flashed a wickedly ambiguous grin.

“We’re here,” Orophin said. 

The path ended at a stream, soft grass leading the small tongue of white sand. Dusk had fallen while they walked and above the canopy, a white moon rose in the indigo sky. Both stood silent for a moment.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Orophin asked.

“It is.” Elrohir agreed. He felt the dark mood lifting, as he enjoyed the spectacle of silver and gold gleaming on the water and on Orophin’s hair.

“It’s the perfect night for magic,” Orophin said.

“Magic?”

“Why, yes.” Orophin laughed again, but this time, his good cheer didn’t bully Elrohir’s nerves. “You are all very technological at Imladris. Here we are still in touch with the essence of Arda. Not everyone can be quite as accomplished as the Lady, but every Silvan knows a little something. Have you forgotten your times here?”

“No,” Elrohir replied. “But you are right. Magic wouldn’t have been my first choice. Or second. I am not gifted in that way.”

“I doubt that. Not with your blood. Let’s see. But first things first. Start plucking.”

They alleviated Glorel from her burden and Elrohir lead her to the grass. He returned to Orophin, who sat cross-legged on the sand, plucking berries into a little mound. They worked silently and quickly until it was all done. Then, Orophin produced a bowl and in it, they collected a few drops of sap from every branch. Elrohir could not help stealing a few glances along the way.

“You are different,” he said, as he put the last branch to the side.

“I know,” Orophin said, that wicked grin flashing again. “Don’t tell anyone – they already know.”

Elrohir chuckled, but pressed on. “Why aren’t you more… deferential? Not that I would want you to, but… well.” There it was, again, him saying too much and not quite what he wanted.

“We have to move on fast with these,” Orophin said, pointing at the berries. 

“What do you want me to do?” Elrohir asked, knowing a deflected question when he saw one.

“Just follow my lead.”

Orophin knelt before the mound of berries and started humming an old harvest song, closing his eyes after a moment. Elrohir knew the song but didn’t feel that he was musically gifted, and so he remained silent. When Orophin reached to cover the berries with his hands Elrohir covered Orophin’s with his.

He felt slightly daft. His father was a great healer and his grandmother was the Lady, but magic wasn’t something that belonged in the everyday life of Imladris. Even when he stayed in the woods, he could feel the power pulsating through everything in a way that was much less subtle than in Imladris, but he had never actually seen anyone doing magic, except for that one time a healer had chanted a prayer over a scratch in his knee, upon his first visit.

“Your doubt is distracting me,” Orophin said so softly that Elrohir almost thought he had imagined it. “Don’t think.”

Elrohir felt properly chided. He knew that he was supposed to quiet his mind for these things. That much he had been taught. Elladan had chosen to keep learning with father but – Elrohir realized he was thinking too much again. He tried to focus on the beauty of the night. After a few breaths, he remembered his first kiss had been under a harvest moon just like this one. The air was chillier and he didn’t know what he was doing, and he wasn’t quite sure Heldes had let him kiss her because she liked him of because she was sorry for his eagerness and inexperience, but it had happened and it was long time ago and now she was married but Orophin had such full lips that were always curved in a smile and the _moon_.

Orophin sighed. “Elrohir. Focus. I may not be able to read minds but it’s quite obvious you are not concentrating.”

Elrohir cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’ll try harder.”

“Not harder. You know that.”

Elrohir nodded. He looked at the berries, then closed his eyes and thought of his mother, and how she would be so happy with them. A faint thought of how he hated the taste of the _yavannamíre_ crossed his mind but he let it float way, and returned his thoughts to the beautiful red of the berries and their plumpness, and the song that Orophin now sang aloud, rather than hummed. He felt his breath grow deeper and longer. The softest breeze made one hair tickle his face, but he refused to think of it and soon enough the tickling was gone.

Beneath his hands, Orophin’s seemed to be warming. They stayed that way for a long time, until Orophin said the incantation. 

“Dear Queen of Birds and Beasts, Trees and Grass, hear our prayer and lend your grace to this fruit. Our Lady Yavanna, it is your most delicate jewel that we wish to preserve.” Elrohir stayed silent. In his heart he doubted the Valar really listened, after the War of Wrath, but he quieted that doubt the best he could, for Orophin’s sake. 

After a few breaths, Orophin continued. “Mother Arda, let the lifeforce run freely, to keep this harvest whole until needed.”

“Ithil, may your light be a blessing upon us.” Orophin picked the bowl of sap and let it drip over the berries. Elrohir though he saw a glow, but it might have been the silvery moonlight.

Orophin lowered his head. Elrohir could see his lips moving in silent prayer. Now he was certain that the berries were really glowing but he dared not voice a word. The very air around them seemed alive. He had felt that, on occasion, on formal blessings made by his father or his grandmother. He was really impressed that Orophin could do such a feat.

Orophin’s lips stopped moving. He lifted his head and looked straight into Elrohir’s eyes. “You are very beautiful, you know,” he said.

Elrohir didn’t know what to say in reply. Orophin smiled. “The ritual is done. The berries should hold as fresh for two to three weeks but I wouldn’t tarry if I were you.”

“What you did… it was amazing. Don’t tell me it’s nothing more the common Silvan would do.”

Orophin’s grin widened. “It isn’t, no. This night the ritual felt more intense, because of you, I believe. Your energy…” Orophin lifted a hand and ran his fingertips over Elrohir’s lips. “I am no mindreader, but I think you want me too,” he said.

Elrohir kissed his fingertips, then leant forward and kissed Orophin’s lips.

Orophin pulled back, chuckling softly. “I thought so. We need to protect these berries, though.”

Quickly they picked the berries and placed them in the bowl, and then in Elrohir’s bag. Working so closely, hands brushed against each other, breaths mingled. For a moment, Elrohir felt like stealing a kiss, but there was something powerful about holding back. He almost feared that a single touch could break the magic of the night.

When they were done, Orophin stripped as Elrohir watched. “Afraid to follow, o little lord?” he asked, teasing.

Elrohir was in awe. Everything that was always complicated and tense with him, Orophin made effortless and smooth. He reached for the hem of his tunic, but before he did little else, Orophin was next to him, emanating warmth and the scents of the forest, taking his garments off, touching his skin, holding him close. No fumbling, no magic broken, no time for the usual doubt. Elrohir felt as if he was moving within a dream.

They made love under the moonlight, then lay entangled. Something strange held a tight vice on Elrohir’s throat. Maybe this was what falling in love felt like. “I can’t…” he meant to say that he couldn’t possibly return to Imladris without more nights like this, but he knew it would be wrong to say it.

Orophin sighed, contentedly. “You think too much. Let it be.” 

“You must be a mindreader, though,” Elrohir said, trying to sound as himself and not this strangled, foreign being.

Orophin didn’t laugh. Instead, he kissed Elrohir, one time, another, and then they were making love again, despite the cold that now settled, despite the setting moon, despite the sand.

“I feel… like I never did before,” Elrohir confessed much later in the night, as they dressed. Orophin was still a mystery to him and he was afraid he was making a fool of himself.

“I should hope so,” Orophin simply replied, placing a kiss on his cheek.

Elrohir meant to say something else. The ambiguity of the situation was killing him. He just couldn’t find the right words.

As he settled on Glorel, behind Orophin, enjoying the proximity even more than before, when they had ridden to the grove, Orophin chuckled.

“You really ought to ask Lord Celeborn for a companion for your return journey.”

Elrohir felt the knot in his throat untangling. “Is that so?”

Orophin laughed softly. “That is just so.”

Orophin took Elrohir’s hands in his, tangling fingers and reins.

“Just don’t think too much.”

Elrohir smiled. That was good advice.

_Finis  
December 2014_

**Author's Note:**

> Yavannamírë is an evergreen and fragrant tree with globed and scarlet fruits that grew in the province of Nísimaldar in Númenor, where it was brought from Tol Eressëa by the Elves. The name can be translated from Quenya as 'jewel of Yavanna' (from Wikipedia).
> 
> Sindarin names from http://elf.namegeneratorfun.com/
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)


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